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Back in the Golden days of British television when the whole nation sat down in front of the same programmes (ask your parents) including the unthinkable concepts of Play for Today" and ITV Playhouse (ask your grandparents or a senior Tower member), no show was more popular than Morecambe and Wise . Ernie had delusions that he could be a famous dramatist, often inviting celebrities to act in "this little play what I wrote" and Eric would mock this delusion, offering once that if the rather short Ernie had a Shakespearean role it would be in Much Ado About Very Little. This is appropriate banter for a play that has had more than one title in its long lifetime; with extra vowels in its earliest recorded appearance (Muche Adoo About Nothinge), Beatrice and Benedick in several booksellers records of the time and in Berlioz's 1862 opera, in adaption and amalgamation as The Law Against Lovers and Universal Passion, and even in Shakspearean controversy - is it Love's Labours Won?
But whatever it has been called its popularity has always been undimmed and in many ways it is easy to see why. As victorious soldiers return from one of those fortunate wars where nobody famous or popular has actually been a casualty and apparently only a few of even the less considered lower orders have joined the choir invisible, the scene is set for romance, subterfuge, comedy and villainy in almost equal measure. Martin Shaw's Don John, a man who seems to have swallowed a lemon at birth is attempting to derail happiness and introduce distrust and disgrace almost before the welcoming banquet has commenced and I genuinely believed him to be a thoroughly unpleasant character thanks to the actor's "wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command".
Leonato is one of those wise and pleasant characters who oddly loses his reason and wisdom at the slightest evidence and is lucky to
save both his reputation and his daughter by the passage of events. As always Simon Taylor was a consummate Shakespearean and
believable father figure, and we felt happy that Messina was governed by such a skilled actor, even if his relatives might wish
for a bit more constancy. His brother Antonio is the sort of uncle who you feel never forgets a birthday and remembers to put a £5
note in the card at Christmas. Jon Gilmartin had prodigious spirit and an even more prodigious beard in this role and charmed and
amused us in equal measure. If Leonato ever stood down as governor, you felt Antonio might do a turn himself before too long.
James Mackendrick made a good job of the slightly odd character of Don Pedro, who is much more of a fighter than a lover and
showed a good emotional range as a general left emotionally exposed on stage by the famous Benedick line "Get thee a wife!".
But this is Much Ado - so what of the lovers? As this was the production of two Benedicks both have to be appraised. Shane
Sweeney seemed happier in his hostility to Beatrice and not quite so enthusiastic in his passion, while Magnus Mariusson seemed a more
believable swain but not quite so credible in his disdain. Beatrice played by Sarah Evans therefore had a choice of husbands and parleyed well with them both. I particularly liked her comic chops in the scene where she accidentally overhears of Benedick's projected secret love for her and indeed all three of the points in the acting triangle did well here. As to Claudio and Hero, leaving aside the feeling that Hero should give her putative husband a knee in the codpiece for his impulsive slandering of her, I was never quite so enamoured of their romance as of B&B although nothing quite so fitted Asma Mani's Hero's life as her leaving, or rather her almost leaving of it. Dying, or almost dying, or pretending to die on stage is never easy at the best of times and ably supported by her relatives and servants this was very well done. Paul Isaac's Claudio although convincing in his remorse, and sour in his slander didn't seem quite bold enough in his passion, which is all the more testing for an actor due to the instant nature of its appearance.
If there were a court of character copyright and dramatis personae could spring from the page and sue their fellow imaginary beings, one of the first cases up before the literary beak would surely be Dogberry vs Malaprop. Although Sheridan's Mrs Malaprop springs from a phrase recorded before the actual appearance of the character, it seems in many ways unjust that the mis-speakings of the stage and wider world were not claimed for ever and all by the noted Constable of the Watch. But there is more to this comic joy than mispronunciation. John Chapman's turn as the less than ruthless guardian of the peace would surely have impressed the original occupier of the role, Will Kempe for whom Shakespeare wrote the character, and with never less than tremendous support from Peter Novis as Verges and Laurence Warner and Jorge Berlanga (and others?) as the remainder of the stooges of Messina this was little short of a comic masterclass. I would certainly like to see more of their adventures a la Terry Pratchett's Night Watch, for whom they were surely the inspiration. Their wild Napoleonic hats provided by Jean Carr and Lottie Munday were the sartorial hit of the show for me and an inspired touch by anyone's standards.
There was fine support from Juliette Chrisman and Sarah Topley as Hero's maids and Adam Sutcliffe as both Balthasar and one of Shakespeare's many friars (with the supplying of wonderful masks not to be forgotten), and Jonathan Brandt and Elliot Bhana as the slightly less than competent cohorts of the wicked Don John. I was very taken by Max Batty's set where the battlements of the city seemed to reach to the sky and Robin Snowdon's lighting which illuminated the watch like the famous Rembrandt painting. Rob Hebblethwaite's sound graced the production and although the dancing looked a little crowded at times it was well done enough for things to go with a hey nonny nonny or two.
Jean Carr and John Morton delivered a Much Ado which covered all its various bases in an exemplary fashion and surely impressed the Paris audiences as much as the London ones.
Photography by Robert Piwko
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